


Promises, promises

by darkness_prince_dan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M, Phan AU, Phan Fluff, Phanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:42:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4499334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkness_prince_dan/pseuds/darkness_prince_dan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When chaos and anarchy rage in the world, Dan and Phil still find time for passionate kissing under the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises, promises

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is ambiguous so it’s up to you whose thoughts are those.

He doesn’t jump out of the bed like they do in movies. He startles awake and stares at the ceiling as tears trickle down his temples and onto the pillow. He swears he can still hear the screaming, the roaring of the guns, he can feel the scorching heat of the sun and the cold sweat running down his spine, he can smell the blood mixed in with dirt and grass, he can taste the iron on his tongue. It’s overwhelming. Breathing erratic, heart threatening to break his ribs, he sits up, closes his eyes. Count to five and inhale then count to five and exhale. Repeat as long as it takes. Calm down, you can survive this. Dan taught him that to keep the panic at bay.

The ratty mattress next to his is vacant. His heart stops for a second and he thinks that maybe his nightmares weren’t actually dreams but rather memories; air leaves his lungs, he can’t breathe. Then a silent ‘fuck’ reaches his ears and Phil relaxes. Dan’s still here, still among the living. He finds his glasses, heaves himself off the floor, laces up his boots and grabs his shotgun. Carefully walking around the six sleeping bodies, he reaches the door of their better-than-nothing cabin.

The moon’s full but it’s still dark in the middle of nowhere. Keeping his gun at the ready, he glances around. The tree line blurs into a mass of black. He stands still for a few seconds, nothing happens. There’s not a sound there shouldn’t be, no unusual movement, it’s safe. For now.

Phil follows the path of the trampled grass behind their shabby shelter. Dan’s got a lantern lit which is quite dangerous considering they’re in some badly written chaotic apocalypse novel where people kill each other over a can of outdated beans.

“Inviting some guests?” He asks approaching Dan in the tall summer grass and nodding at the too bright light. The blades try to nick his skin through the thick jeans but they’re quite unsuccessful.

“Anything better than this boredom,” the brunet answers stopping his motions and turning to Phil.

Dan sheathes his sword and Phil’s eyes follow the movement, the glinting of the metal in the pale moonlight. The grass swishes quietly in the breeze. He idly thinks that there might be a hell of a lot of ticks here but Lyme disease is the least of his problems.

“Never thought I’d actually have to use it,” Dan whispers staring at the blade. Before all this started, or rather collapsed, the brunet trained with all sorts of swords and daggers. At the time it was just a cool hobby, now it helps him survive.

“Never thought I’d be glad my father used to be in the military,” Phil smirks at Dan and glances at the shotgun in his arms. He used to hate going camping with his father and brothers, learning how to use weapons and survive on nothing but roots. As it happens, he’s quite grateful for that now.

They sit together on the trampled grass where Dan trained; backs to the cabin, eyes always scanning the forest, always on alert. Phil thinks he’s not been relaxed for a minute since everything fell apart. Their thighs touch and Phil scoots further away, not really wanting but respecting Dan’s wishes. They’ve talked about getting together months earlier, Dan said a firm ‘no’, it was awkward between them for a while, still is. Phil doesn’t know how to talk to him, how to look at him, how to act around him.

However, during moments like this everything seems normal, as it used to be: just two friends stargazing, totally normal. It doesn’t help though that Dan’s sending him mixed signals: always sleeping next to Phil, studying his profile when he thinks Phil’s not looking, throwing himself in front of a bullet for him (that was incredibly stupid of him and Phil cursed at him for ten minutes solid after that; luckily, they both fell to the ground and neither was injured).

“Who woke you up?” Dan asks after some time. The ‘who’ is not meant to refer to the living. Everybody in their group has lost someone, saw their loved ones die before their eyes; it’s always  _them_  who wake you up.

“Nicole,” Phil whispers the name of their friend as if not wanting to disturb the dead girl. She died a month ago when they met a group of scavengers who were armed better than anyone Phil saw during this apocalyptic nightmare. They lost half their group that day. “And you?” He adds louder glancing at the brunet. Stars reflect in his near black eyes, a breeze ruffles his curls, his hair as tragically cut as Phil’s but he still looks adorable in Phil’s opinion.

“Never actually went to sleep,” Dan responds. He rarely does these days, it’s rather worrying.

Phil averts his glance to the moon. She’s as cold and uncaring as always, training her army of stars to be the same. The icy dots blink indifferent to anyone and everyone; the moon’s a good teacher.

“It’s funny how in the apocalypse movies they showed the everyman slaying zombies and surviving easily when here everyone without basic survival and fighting skills is dead,” Dan muses. There’s no emotion in his voice; they’re all pretty numb these days. It’s dangerous to let your emotions come out to play when any second the person you love can end up dead and the pain you feel after that does nothing to help you stay alive. Feelings are held under lockdown for now.

Phil knows that pretty well, he’s lived through more than one loss. He doesn’t want to think about that, however. He’s focusing on the positive side of things, though there’s not many of those. But they’re alive and safe here, by the end of summer they should reach the safe zone and they haven’t encountered any hostiles in a couple of weeks. That’s rather good as apocalypse scenarios go.

“I’d so go for a shower right now,” Phil changes the topic abruptly, stretching his legs and leaning on his hands to be able to look at the sky better. He knows how deep Dan can get when he starts contemplating life and death and the whole existential nonsense. Phil doesn’t want that tonight. He wants something simple, something nice and uncomplicated in this shitty situation.

“Imagine just lying on your sofa watching TV,” Dan quickly catches on, dropping the whole deep musings thing. “Or sleeping till noon and staying in bed all day.”

“Imagine having electricity back on,” Phil smirks. “How nice would it be to have computers and internet again?”

“Oh my god, I’d kill someone for chocolate,” the brunet whines, mirroring Phil’s pose.

“You tried,” Phil reminds him with a smirk. “Me, when we first met.”

“You had way more than chocolate and you shot me first,” Dan huffs. “I still have a scar from your bullet.”

“It just grazed you,” Phil rolls his eyes. They smile at each other and giggle.

“Was that really half a year ago?” Dan wonders directing his question to no one in particular so Phil just hums in response.

The breeze shifts. It’s a bit colder and stronger now, bringing a scent of some flower Phil forgot the name of. A shooting star passes through the sky; he wishes for all this to be over soon. Dan yawns.

“You should try and sleep,” Phil suggests. No matter what’s happening between them, Phil will never stop caring about Dan, not after what they’ve been through. Dan wants to protest, Phil can see it the way his mouth crooks downwards slightly and his eyebrows furrow. But the older of the two will have none of that, especially not when he knows the brunet’s not slept properly in a week. “I’ll keep watch, it’s fine, really.”

Dan nods, albeit a bit reluctantly. He surprises Phil by putting his head on Phil’s lap and humming softly, a small smile on his lips as he closes his eyes. Phil’s a bit hesitant but he can’t refuse the temptation so his fingers slip into Dan’s hair, threading through it softly. The brunet nears purrs.

They stay silent for a while. Phil’s pushing away Dan’s fringe with every sweep of his fingers and wondering if he’d totally ruin everything by kissing him. Dan’s not sleeping. His breathing is still heavy and he’s tense, listening to anything out of the normal. The false sense of security is not enough to lull him, apparently. Phil will have to try harder.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dan starts, not opening his eyes.

“Wow, that’s a first,” Phil butts in. That’s how Dan starts most of his serious talks; either that or ‘isn’t it funny’, so Phil knows when to brace himself for some pearls of wisdom.

“Oh, that’s hilarious, Phil. Have you thought of that yourself?” Dan retorts but he’s grinning so Phil hasn’t actually insulted him.

“Yeah, that’s a totally new joke, I just thought of it,” Phil nods seriously. Dan laughs and Phil can’t keep the smile from his face when he hears that hyena like sound.

“No, but seriously,” the brunet gnaws on his lower lip, his eyes opening. He stares at Phil in the too bright at night lantern light, whole universes in his eyes. “I don’t remember how anyone I knew looked, I don’t remember how my mum’s voice sounds, I hardly have any memories with my dad. I’m losing it all, Phil, and it’s only been two years,” he murmurs so softly, so desperately, so scared and vulnerable. Phil’s never seen him like that. He’s used to emotionless Dan, sarcastic Dan, crude jokes in the face of death making Dan, not his feelings sharing Dan. It’s not an unwelcome change, just a bit sudden.

“I know,” Phil brushes his thumb over Dan’s cheek, over his quivering lower lip. “I hardly remember anyone either.”

“I don’t want to forget you,” he whispers, eyes bore into Phil’s.

“You won’t,” Phil smiles reassuringly. “I’m planning on being here for a long time.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dan sits up abruptly, glance cast to the ground.

“Dan, I’m not going anywhere,” Phil slides over so he’s facing the younger one, sitting next to him.  “I’m not leaving you alone,” he elaborates. He’s guessing that’s Dan’s biggest worry since when they met the brunet had been by himself for a long while, everyone he knew killed by the virus or by other survivors.

“Don’t say that,” Dan shakes his head, cracking a sad smile. “That’s what people say before it all goes to shit. Aren’t you familiar with foreshadowing?”

Phil rolls his eyes.

“If we were a couple, then I’d agree with you,” he says.

“So I better shouldn’t kiss you like I planned?” Dan lifts an eyebrow, his smile daring.

“You totally shouldn’t,” Phil nods, leaning in, eyes on Dan’s plush if a bit cracked lips.

“Yeah, that would be absolutely asking for it,” the brunet scoots closer, his hand slides down from Phil’s knee to his inner thigh, teasing.

“Such a cliché,” Phil adds, his own hand caressing Dan’s cheek.

“We probably shouldn’t risk it,” the younger says, a serious expression on his face as he leans away.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” the other huffs, his hand on the nape of Dan’s neck and he pulls the brunet to himself.

Dan’s giggling as their lips touch. The sound is quickly swallowed by Phil’s mouth as is the moan Dan can’t stop from escaping. It’s all tangling tongues and nipping at lips, fingers tugging at hair and whimpers of pleasure, hands under shirts and arching backs into one another. Dan has no idea when Phil removed his glasses or pushed him to the ground but he’s on top of Dan, leaving marks on his neck and collarbones. Sighing in pleasure as Phil’s hands trail down his ribs, Dan thinks he’s been an idiot when a couple months back he denied this to Phil and himself. He’s head over heels for this man and even if Dan’s scared of being hurt and left alone again, this is so worth it.

Phil ghosts his lips over Dan’s neck on his way up, enjoying all the little whimpers the man beneath him makes. He’s not quite sure what made Dan change his mind about their relationship or maybe this is just a one-time make out session but he sure as hell will make the most of it. Dan’s fingertips are burning on the skin of his back, trailing along his spine, curving around his hip, teasing along the waistline of his jeans. Leaving a kiss on Dan’s jaw, Phil dips his hand just a tad under Dan’s pants, caressing the skin there, while simultaneously nipping at his earlobe, rolling the earring with his tongue.

“I just realised something,” Dan breathes heavily. Phil hums indicating that he’s listening but not stopping what he’s doing. A tremble runs through the brunet making the other man smirk. “All goes to shit when – Phil!” Dan yelps, nails digging into Phil’s flesh, as the older one runs his fingers over the denim on Dan’s crotch. He lets his hand linger as the most sultry moan leaves the younger’s lips.

“You were saying?” Phil questions nonchalant, lifting himself up to look Dan in the eyes. But his composure is broken and he whimpers as the brunet returns the favour.

“I was saying,” Dan smirks, “bad shit happens only after the couple has had a chance to fuck, so…” He lifts an eyebrow.

“Are you suggesting something?” Phil murmurs, dipping down again to place a few kisses on Dan’s neck, their hands are once again wondering.

“Well, it’s kind of difficult to acquire lube during an apocalypse so I’m not suggesting  _that_ ,” the brunet explains. “But other than that, I’m up for anything if you are.”

Phil pulls away staring at the incredible man beneath him. In the light of the lantern his eyes are dark amber, his pupils are blown, lips kissed raw, cheeks dyed red, hair dishevelled. He looks indecently gorgeous and Phil would do anything he asked in this moment. But he’s still got some sense left in him so he has to ask.

“Is this a one-time thing for you?” Phil’s eyes run over Dan’s features: the soft curve of his jaw, his round cheeks, the crater that is his dimple, the slowly disappearing smile.

“No, I want this, I want you,” he says sincerely. And then he bites his lip, eyes darting away. “Unless you don’t,” he murmurs carefully.

“Idiot,” Phil shakes his head and leans down connecting their lips for the millionth time this night.

Dan’s tongue slips into Phil’s mouth and his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt, tugging. The older one pulls away and sits up. Extremely slowly, he starts pulling his t-shirt up, revealing the faint abs courtesy of the apocalypse. The brunet lifts himself too, leaning on one hand as the other brushes over every new patch of skin Phil exposes. But then Phil’s grin vanishes and he pushes Dan down just as a shot resounds in the stillness and a bullet flies past them hitting the cabin. After that it’s all noise, chaos, confusion and general turmoil.

Phil grabs his glasses first and then his shotgun, returning what they’re getting. Dan’s got his blade at the ready for close combat. It comes sooner than he thinks. The noise of the shooting masks the swishing of the tall grass as a couple men approach them from the right. Dan notices them too late and jumps to his feet at once glad that they’re only armed with knives. His relief doesn’t last long as one of the men knocks over the lantern in his rush to murder them. The grass catches fire fast and easy; the whole field illuminated as if it’s daytime. By this time everyone from the cabin has woken up and Dan tries to avoid friendly fire as he turns to Phil.

“No,” Dan whispers, eyes wide in unadulterated horror.

He blocks out the commotion as he falls to his knees next to Phil who’s lying on the trampled grass, breathing unevenly. Locking his fingers together, the brunet puts his hands over the blood rushing from Phil’s left side. The blue eyes find his and Dan’s swallowing sobs.

“You can’t, you promised,” Dan wants to shout but the words barely make their way out of his mouth.

“Your foreshadowing thing,” Phil clenches his jaw, groaning in pain. “It works too well,” he cracks a smile. Dan laughs forcedly.

“Dan! Phil!” Jamie shouts running towards them, knives at the ready.

The gunfire has stopped. There are shouts but not from their side. The fire’s quickly licking over every blade of the grass, it’ll soon reach them. Dan lifts his eyes to Jamie and without another word they lift Phil rushing closer to the cabin. When they’re safe from the fire, Dan’s back on putting pressure over Phil’s wound. He looks over his shoulder at the field set alight. As far as he understands, the hostiles have scattered and the six people of their group are trying to tame the flames. Jamie’s commanding everyone, typical. The brunet turns back.

“Phil, wake up,” Dan whispers insistently. No answer. “Phil, please,” panic starts to set in again. Fucking emotions; he should’ve kept them locked up. “You promised, you promised,” he keeps repeating the words like they should somehow affect the man lying in a pool of blood.

The azure eyes are closed. The marble skin is painted in streaks of scarlet red. Not a whisper escaping past the pink lips. Fire rages hot and unstoppable. Smoke and heat make it difficult to breathe. Desperate screams fill the air.

He breathes in, coughing. Count to five and inhale then count to five and exhale. Repeat as long as it takes. Calm down, you can survive this. You have already survived this before.


End file.
